


Thirteen for Luck

by sabinelagrande



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Community: housefic_pens, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, Multi, Ten Songs Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-08
Updated: 2007-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>13 drabbles, oh noes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteen for Luck

**(Remember the Days of the) Old Schoolyard**

“The nurses have a pool going.”

Cuddy rolled her eyes. “Only because you’ve corrupted them.”

“This one concerns me, you, college, and sex.”

“Because, clearly, that’s what we went to college for. Four years of unbridled lust with our future co-workers.”

“But, if someone were to let it slip in the cafeteria one day that we consummated our relationship at a football game in your sophomore year, a savvy investor might just triple her money.”

“I like those odds, but make it fast,” Cuddy replied, grinning and reaching for her wallet. “Somebody’ll remember you went to McGill within the week.”

 

 **Not An Addict**

When Stacy left, she left slowly, like people who don’t want to go do. By the time it got down to the end, there was no last sweep, no final word. It was almost natural; he just sat and watched as she filtered out.

Alone now, he still finds her things scattered- a toothbrush here, a magazine there, all things that, like him, have outlived their usefulness.

And at the back of his closet, that dress, that goddamned dress she wore on their first date, all soft and smelling of roses.

He still falls asleep with it, dreaming of her.

 

 **A Summer in Ohio**

Wilson packs his things at three, just before he’s supposed to leave.

The light blinks, ignored, on the answering machine. It’s House- Wilson’s been screening his calls.

He can hear House already in his head- it’s worse than having him there. He’s going to ask about the meaning of things that they said and did that married men are not supposed to say and do with their best friends, and Wilson can’t explain.

In the cab, he promises himself he’s going to do right this time.

Except that House is waiting at the airport, and there go his good intentions.

 

 **Awaken Mustakrakish**

“If you don’t quit giggling, this is never going to work,” Chase told her with the best frown he could muster. “And I know you moved it that time.”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

“Did not!”

“Right. The spirit world desperately wanted to say ‘Do me.’ They had a big conference on the astral plane to decide who would get to tell us.”

“You never know. They could be horny ghosts.”

“This is very serious,” he told her, trying hard not to grin.

Cameron put her hands back on the pointer. “Fine. Not my fault you don’t know how to play right.”

 

 **Lovers Understand**

Lisa wondered if it was obvious to everyone, or just her.

They weren’t exactly fighting; it was more like a sparring match, as if at any moment they were going to break positions and shake hands. There was that undercurrent, an electricity that Lisa could feel yards away. The woman turned to leave, and Lisa watched as Greg watched her, looking like he wanted to eat her alive. There was the slightest pang when she thought of how long it had been since he’d turned that look on her.

Lisa took a deep breath and walked out into the clinic.

 

 **The Last Stop**

“Do you want to get a drink with me?”

It was a pretty typical question, especially on a Friday after too many hours in the lab. Foreman would have said yes without thinking about it if he hadn’t caught something odd in her voice. “Just a drink?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Cameron replied, and there was that smile, the same conspiratorial one he’d seen her give Chase so many times. He gave her a long, appraising look, not sure if she was entirely serious, but she didn’t even flutter.

At least he beat Dr. Wilson to the punch, he thought.

 

 **Midnight Train To Georgia**

The hag at the ticket counter gave him the eye, but he puffed up his chest and presented the ID he’d rightfully stolen from David Becker’s older brother. Boredly, she waved him through.

When he’d pictured it, Greg had figured running away would be at least a little exciting, like a late night movie or a Fleming novel. In actuality, it was worse than boring, squashed between two sleeping businessmen without a single Russian agent in sight.

He watched the sleeping world go by the window, trying not to believe that his father would be waiting at the next stop.

 

 **Night Game**

Just out of sight, he watches as her hands snake down under the sheets, pushing them away, pushing back up to lift that impossibly thin nightgown up over (God is merciful) those atrociously perfect breasts. He flips it in his mind’s eye, seeing his own fingers inside her, making her writhe and dance and shudder like that.

Cuddy moans when she comes, and he wishes with everything he has that his name was lost in it somewhere.

And House swears to God that one day, he’s going to come through that goddamned window and take her like he finds her.

 

 **Zwitter**

House barely kept himself from doing a double take upon entering the exam room. “Nicotine gum?” he asked, fingers itching for his Vicodin bottle.

The man stopped in mid-chew. “Yes,” he replied in a quiet, calm, but oddly smug voice. “Is that going to be a problem?”

House took a very long moment to consider the man from bottom to top: worn out but well polished shoes, sedate business suit, empty holster on his belt, and, as if to crown it all, stark white hair.

House smiled and closed the chart. “Doctor Chase will be right in to see you.”

 

 **This Is Getting Over You**

His eyes aren’t green when Cameron stares up into them, but otherwise it works.

She’s got this wicked little smile, and it reminds Chase so much of her that he takes her home.

She tells herself he’s much more satisfying, but she can’t decide if it’s blasphemy or affirmation.

By morning, Chase has already forgotten the girl’s name, but he had no intention of remembering it.

Wilson holds her for just a moment before she leaves, and she tries not to breathe him in.

They snipe at each other over their morning coffee, both of them pretending to be whole.

 

 **We’re Okay**

“Adult problems are supposed to have adult solutions,” House tells them matter-of-factly.

“I know when I think ‘adult’, yours is the first name that comes to mind,” Cuddy replies, rolling her eyes.

“What if he’s right? Maybe-” Wilson pauses, looking for the words.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Cuddy finishes, darkly.

“I would have said ‘naked’,” House says with a leer, “but your way is much more literary.”

“Is it worth the hassle?” Cuddy asks Wilson, tired.

“Oh please,” House interjects. “You’re getting the best end of the bargain.”

Wilson looks back and forth between them. “Isn’t it always?”

 

 **Riot Van**

There’s some horrible catastrophe in town- students marching, police responding like police do- Chase can’t worry about details when he’s knee-deep in fresh emergencies. It doesn’t help that it’s Foreman’s last day; he doesn’t even want to think about departmental drama now.

Right about the time Chase starts praying for a miracle, there he is, blood spattering his too-expensive watch, with a poise and detachment that Chase can’t help but envy. He and Foreman keep working side by side, not talking, just trying to get through.

It isn’t until then that Chase realizes how much he’s going to miss him.


End file.
